


Every Road Leads To You

by songbvrd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel POV, Christmas, Dean Winchester POV, Domestic destiel, Idiots in Love, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, dean gets stuck in cas' djinn world, djinn, mentions of abuse (also john), mentions of homophobia from john, they have a dog and a kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbvrd/pseuds/songbvrd
Summary: When Cas gets poisoned by a djinn and is unable to be woken, Dean gets sent into his head to wake him up.While Dean is expecting something that's hard to pull Cas from, he never expected to find Cas married with kids and a dog.Dean has to confront what all this means to him and Cas has to decide whether to stay or go.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 211





	Every Road Leads To You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is just a lil oneshot set around Christmas because I've been especially in my feelings lately.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please feel free to leave any/all feedback!

Cas ran his fingers through his fiance’s hair, taking note of all the little details. He loved being able to do this, being able to just watch him when he was actually peaceful and happy. Cas so rarely saw him like this, and it had taken years of relative quiet before he had slept well enough for Cas to be able to just spend these moments.

Things were different, of course. Cas slept too now, usually with his arms wound around the love of his life, as close to him as Dean would ever let him be. 

Dean looked older than he had when they’d first met. There were more lines in his face, indicative of everything they’d been through together. He looked more world worn, more scarred and more tired; always tired. But he was beautiful, and Cas could just look at him forever, if he was allowed.

At some point, Dean stirred, and rather than jumping awake with a knife and a scream, his eyes fluttered open, all green hues and long eyelashes. Cas took it as a testament to how comfortable they were together, to how much Dean trusted Cas to keep him safe and happy, and it made him smile. 

It was over a decade of waiting, and yet it was so worth it. Seeing the sleepy smile on Dean’s face as he leaned up to kiss Cas first thing in the morning.

Cas had lived a thousand lifetimes, watched the rise and fall of the ocean, the dawn of each day, the beginning of everything, the evolution and destruction of dynasties and civilisations and yet… nothing compared to waking up with the man he loved.

*

“Why me?” Dean asked with a frown.

“Because you’ve got the best chance of snapping him out of it.” Rowena eyed him like he was stupid, and honestly, Dean felt kind of stupid, because he really didn’t understand how he had any better of a chance of waking Cas up than Sam did. 

He just blinked at her, and Sam sighed, “Profound bond, remember? He likes you better.”

Dean glanced over at Sam and scoffed, “Dude, that was like nine years ago.”

“And yet, you still have a profound bond.” Rowena told him, her sarcasm verging on dangerous as she stared him down. “It’s you or nobody, boy-o, so you may as well suck it up.”

Dean took a few steps forward. He didn’t know why he was so scared of doing this. He had a few minutes, probably. Rowena was still getting the spell together, but Dean had been dreading it since they’d first discussed it on the phone.

If they could’ve gotten Cas away from the djinn’s poison in any other way, they would’ve, but no amount of talking to him or trying to get through seemed to have woken him up to it, and Dean was beginning to think whatever was in there really did have him trapped. 

Maybe he was scared of what he’d find. Cas had given up so much because of Dean. He’d lost so much. Dean hadn’t always been kind to him, and yet he had always had Dean’s back when things got bad. He had lost his home, his family, everything. Because of Dean. 

Dean wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Cas happy, a version of his life where he hadn’t ended up stuck in the middle of all this horrible, life wasting bullshit that they had brought him into. If he went into this world, that meant Dean had to face exactly how badly, how irreparably he’d ruined Cas’s life. Taken away any chance Cas had of being actually happy.

He had imagined all sorts of alternatives he might find. 

Cas back in Heaven, a good soldier, leading armies, never having met Dean at all; free to lead a normal life… or whatever it was Angel’s lived. 

Cas with Meg. An Angel and a Demon, finding some weird middle ground to live in together, no more apocalypses or hell, but instead a kind of freedom.

Cas having completed his mission for Naomi, turning his back on the Winchesters and having everything he’d loved back. Not having lost complete faith in Heaven for Dean, who had never deserved Cas’s faith in him. 

Maybe he would be a human. Like Emmanuel, living with a wife and a child. Maybe he’d still have Claire, but have a wife too, and a cat. Just a normal man, getting to live without the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

In truth, he wasn’t sure what would hurt more. The reality that Cas’s happy place might very well involve having betrayed or never met Dean, or the reality that if that was Cas’s dream life, Dean couldn’t blame him for it. Cas deserved so much better than what they had given him, and there was no getting around it. He had suffered for his loyalty to them. Dean wasn’t sure how well he’d do with seeing Cas have that and then pulling him away from it.

Dean walked away for a moment under the guise of getting water, but honestly just feeling incredibly overwhelmed. 

He got out into one of the hallways of the extensive bunker, sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. He knew it was likely that no one would understand what he was upset about— but he couldn’t help it. Whatever world awaited him in Cas’s head, Cas deserved it. And there was every chance he lost it because of Dean. 

Sam followed a moment later, looking down at Dean.

“You look freakishly tall from this angle,” Dean told him, already trying to avoid the question that was undoubtedly coming. “I mean, you always do, but—”

“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam cut him off, eyes narrowed at him.

“I would’ve thought you would want to be the first person in there to save Cas. You’ve never hesitated on trying to save him — or anyone else for that matter — before.”

That much was true and Dean knew it. He had a tendency to be the first to offer himself up on the chopping block. He would do the same now. It was just going to be a whole different level of guilt, he suspected. 

“‘Course I’d do it to save him.” Dean scoffed, offended. 

“Then what’s going on right now?” Sam asked, though it was more of a demand, as was their way. They dealt in aggression often, especially when it was crunch time. It was almost always crunch time.

“I just, uh… feel bad.” Dean admitted, getting to his feet. “Dude gave up everything for us. He thinks he’s got the perfect life in there and I’m gonna go in and drag him back to this bullshit.” 

“You’re going to save his life, Dean.” Sam reminded, “He'll be dead soon if you don’t.” 

“I know.” Dean nodded, “I’m just… psychin’ myself up for it, I guess. Not really thrilled to have to see the Angels again.”

Sam blinked at him, like he was stupid, then shook his head. “Dude.” He walked off, leaving Dean wondering what he said that was so wrong.

A moment later, he heard Rowena sweet but menacing call of his name and he made his way over to her, ready for whatever was about to happen. 

“Remember, if he dies by anything other than his own hand, he’ll die here too. And so will you. Don’t let him get sucked further into whatever is in there. Be as blunt as you need be.” She told him. “Good luck.”

*

Dean blinked, looking around with absolutely no clue where he was. He didn’t recognise the surroundings. The trees and weather looked like Kansas in December, maybe, but it was hard to tell. Dean had been all over America in his years as a hunter, and it did start to blend together a bit. 

He was freezing though, so wherever he was, he should’ve brought a bigger coat. He wished Cas’s fantasy world could’ve at least involved the sun. 

He could hear a dog barking and he followed the source until he found a house, walled up, with a dog barking at him through a gate. 

It looked unfamiliar, but Dean instantly liked it, as he did many dogs. Though it barked at him, it wagged its tail and jumped around as though excited, and Dean was worried he’d alarm someone, so he reached his hand through the gate to pet the dog’s head. 

“Claire, you out here?” The voice interrupting Dean’s play date with the dog rung in his ears. It took him a moment to place it. Jack. 

Jack and Claire? Was he in the right place? Maybe Cas was still a full Angel who helped Heaven, but visited his kids. That was kind of nice, Dean thought, still bracing himself for the impact. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Dean heard the gruff voice call out, and it took him a split second too long to place his own voice. The deep, gravelly timber of his own tone that he was not at all used to hearing from so far away.

Did he live in this home? This weird, walled up property in the middle of nowhere? 

Dean vaguely saw Jack walking across the yard to the door, and ducked out of the way so as not to be seen. “Zepp, come on, buddy.” Jack called, hitting his hands on his thighs. The dog turned and bounded off towards the door, which closed, leaving Dean alone in the snow. 

Dean waited another minute or two before he decided that he had to figure out what was going on in there. He looked at the wall, trying to figure out if he could scale it. Eventually, he decided he probably could, but that it would be a lot of work, and would be hard to keep it quiet. 

Still, Dean took what he could get, and twenty minutes later, Dean was over the wall. Or on it, at least, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get down without alerting anyone or breaking a limb. 

Finally, he found the biggest gathering of snow he could, lowered himself down as close to the ground as he could by his fingertips, then dropping into the snow. 

He was freezing and wet, but hey, he was unscathed and no one seemed to have noticed his presence. 

He crept closer to the house, keeping away from windows. If he lived here, in Cas’s dream, Dean had to assume this was a better version of himself. Maybe wearing a cardigan and drinking tea, with none of the same chaotic, bloodthirsty energy Dean had never had a say in. At least that would be an advantage. 

He thought it might be interesting to see, in a sort of morbid, I-also-agree-that-I’m-broken way. 

He peeked through a frosted window, unable to see much, but he did manage to see a table in the distance. Sat at it, passing food around the table, Dean could pick out nearly everyone. 

Himself, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking relatively normal. Claire, as she always was, a badass little blonde with a smirk on her face. Jack, opposite Claire, seemingly bickering with her about something. He looked the same as always, healthy and happy and normal.

Finally, there was Cas. Dean couldn’t see his face, since he had his back to him, but he’d recognise Cas anywhere. Even without the signature trench coat. Cas looked… human, actually. He, like weird other Dean, wore track pants and a casual t-shirt, and was visibly eating. 

The fifth person at the table was the one Dean didn’t know. Probably because the fifth person at the table was an infant. A small child in yellow overalls and a little white shirt underneath. He looked to be maybe three or four, and happily grinned at other Dean, who picked a bit of food off his plate and gave it to the child. 

So Cas’s happy place was… what, a family home? Having a child? Dean wondered idly where Sam was, why he was there but Sam wasn’t. 

Dean realised he would need to get inside the house. These people didn’t look too much like hunters, so maybe Dean could sneak in without too much interference. 

It took a few more moments for Dean to figure a way in. It was probably incredibly stupid, but so was what he was doing, so… 

A moment later, the front door was open. Just a crack, enough for Dean to slip silently through and listen out for any context on what was going on. Obviously, he needed to approach Cas about it, but he needed to find chinks in the armour first. Find some way to make Cas believe it was all fake. 

At least that's what he told himself. Perhaps some part of him was just… curious. Thus far, this hadn’t been at all what Dean was expecting to find in Cas’s perfect reality. Or his deepest desire or whatever the monster tagline was. 

From his new vantage point, Dean could see a little more. He could see a Christmas tree behind them, decorated lushly with dozens of presents beneath it. He could see a dog bed, complete with a sleeping dog on it. See two wide couches, worn with use, but comfortable looking.

He could see the food— hamburgers, like Dean often cooked in the bunkers. 

It was… normal. Pure normalcy. Humanity, in the middle of nowhere, in the snow, at Christmas.

It wasn’t like anything Cas had ever had, obviously, because it was so human. But Dean hadn’t had anything like this either. Not since he was four at least. A big, full Christmas Tree. A family dinner. A dog. An… infant. That one threw Dean for a loop somewhat. Did Cas want kids?

He looked around the kitchen, where he was currently crouching, and found more of the same. Pure normalcy. The things there looked worn and lived in, the fridge covered in fingerprints that needed to be cleaned, a pie sitting on the cupboard cooling.

Dean felt some weird smugness that he’d worked pies into Cas’s fantasy, but he still couldn’t explain it.

“It’s not my fault you’re an idiot.” Not-Claire was rolling her eyes at Jack, who poured like a child.

“Dad, tell her I’m not an idiot!” Not-Jack argued back, and Dean watched on, curious. They hadn’t changed much then. Jack seemed sweet and unassuming, a kid who wanted approval. Claire was sass and snark and smirks, as ever. 

He watched Not-Dean and Cas exchange a look (though he couldn’t actually see Cas’s expression well enough) and then Cas spoke. “Come on, Claire. We’re having a family Christmas Dinner.”

“Ugh, it’s only Christmas Eve.” Not-Claire argued back.

“C’mon, Claire, everyone’s comin’ tomorrow night. This is our family dinner.” Not-Dean said, and Dean noted his mannerisms. No different than his, he’d say. His voice was no less gruff. He didn’t look younger or inherently softer. He just looked like him. Something was off though, and Dean couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“‘S’that mean you’re not going to give me shit about Kaia?” Not-Claire asked, and Dean heard his own chuckle in reply. Son of a bitch, it was like invasion of the body snatchers or something. 

“Claire. Kid. Please. I will never, from the bottom of my heart, never… stop giving you shit about Kaia.” Not-Dean teased.

Suddenly it hit Dean what was off about this Not-Dean. He was happy. He was all smiles and laughter and even his casual clothing. He was all… domesticated. He was Dean, but happy and content.

Dean narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious of this realisation.

Not-Dean was the enemy, because Not-Dean was keeping Cas in this place where he’d die. Besides, actual-Dean hadn’t been that happy in years. Hell, this Dean hadn’t even pretended to be that happy since before he went to Hell. He didn’t think Cas had ever known him so happy.

Maybe he never had been.

Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he felt like someone was pinching his windpipe. The world Cas’s mind created that was too good to leave, the one the djinn had given to him, so heavily featured a happy Dean.

Dean felt a rush of affection for Cas, followed by a rush of guilt. Not only had Cas given up everything for him, Dean was so intrinsic to his life now. Dean actually felt sort of sad for him. He wasn’t a particularly fulfilling person to be stuck with for days on end, let alone a lifetime.

“Be nice.” Cas chastised Not-Dean, and Not-Dean winked at him. Okay, a little weird, but not unheard of. They had winked at each other plenty before, especially when they were sassing each other about nothing.

Feeling weird about intruding, despite that being his exact purpose, Dean snuck towards the stairs, which were blessedly, out of sight of the dinner table. He was quiet as possible, and when the floor creaked, no one seemed to react at all. It was an old place, Dean told himself. Maybe they were used to floors creaking here and there. They had a dog, maybe they were used to the dog making noise while they ate. Either way, once upstairs, Dean was no less careful.

He found Claire’s room first. It looked appropriately angsty for Claire. The grumpy cat laid out on her bed, posters up on the walls, a cork board full of cases she wanted to work. Huh. So they were still hunters. On her bedside were photo frames. Her and Kaia. Her with Jody, Donna, Patience and Alex. Her, Jack, Cas and Dean. They stood out in front of this house, with a sold sign between them. Claire’s arms were around Dean and Jack’s around Cas. They looked… like an actual family. 

He moved back out quickly, less concerned about Not-Claire and more concerned with Cas. Jack’s room was next. It was sort of like a kid’s room. Cowboys and pictures of space. But beside his bed, a pile of books. Huge, philosophical novels. Dean wanted to smile, but he just felt sad. Poor kid, had to grow up too fast.

He crept further down the hall, looking for either his own or Cas’s room. There was one that was clearly a spare, untouched and clean. It had Cas written all over it in its decoration; simple, clean, neat.

There was only one more room down this side of the hall, and when Dean pushed the door quietly open, he saw… what appeared to be a master bedroom. Totally normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for the big canvas picture of Dean and Cas hanging above the bed. Both wearing tuxes, Dean was tipped back off his feet, dipped by Cas, who held him with an arm around his back and another holding one of his hands. They were kissing, Cas leaning down over Dean, and both looked like they were smiling despite the kiss.

Okay. Not-Dean was happy. Not-Dean was happy and domesticated and normal. Not-Dean was married. To Cas.

Dean crept further in, making a mental note to unpack all of this later. Sure enough, when he got closer to the bed, he saw both sides crumpled and lived in. On one side, a framed picture of Dean, Cas, Jack and Claire. Beside it, a book about the lifecycle of honey bees. 

On the other side, a framed picture of Dean and Sam, and one of Sam, Dean, Mary and John. 

He crept into the ensuite bathroom and found two toothbrushes. Two towels. A flannel hanging over a rack. A hamper with normal, married people clothes and underwear in it.

His recon had gone from being about getting Cas back to being about wrapping his head around all this.

He found his way into their closet, sure enough, two sets of clothes. Flannels. Trenchcoat. Dean’s purple nightgown he got after the Scooby Doo fiasco. 

They were married. Proper married. Dean pulled out his own side drawer. Angel blade. Knife. Gun. Salt. 

Dean was Dean, warts and all. He was just a Dean who… loved Cas. But that wasn’t him? Cas was his best friend, he didn’t…? Did he?

*

“It’s going to be fine,” Jack was saying seriously, shaking his head, and Claire just rolled her eyes at him.

“Easy for you to say, have you ever seen them go full Dad mode on a date? Of course not, because you don’t date. They’re the worst. All embarrassing and lovey dovey. Eugh.” Claire feigned gagging and Cas just snorted. 

“C’mere, sweetheart, we can start early.” Dean told Cas with a cheeky, flirtatious grin.

Claire feigned gagging once more. “Please. You’re old. And my dads. Do you really have to act like horny teenagers in front of me?”

“Absolutely I do.” Dean grinned, getting to his feet to take his plate to the kitchen. Cas was already there, washing his own and Jack’s plates, and he felt Dean’s arms wind around him, pulling him tight against Dean’s chest. 

“You guys are disgusting, y’know that?” Claire told them.

“I think it’s sweet,” Jack argued, and he smiled happily at them. “Our dads are happy.” 

“Our dads can be happy without touching.” Claire argued back. 

Cas was too lost in this moment though, and as he turned, Dean caught his lips in a quick kiss. Years passed, but Cas never got used to it. Never got used to being so close to Dean, to being allowed to reach out and touch him, to Dean wanting to hug him like this, wanting a family with him. 

“Kiddo, it’s your turn to wash Jazz,” Dean told Claire, though he never took his eyes off Cas.

Cas still felt as breathless as the first time Dean had kissed him. Ever since he was charged with caring for Dean, this was all he had wanted. Dean was all he had wanted. He had long since given up on ever getting it when Dean had kissed him. It’d been such a shock too. Dean being injured. Cas being terrified he was going to die. Cas begging him not to die, not having the mojo to stop it. Dean whispering that he was fine. Laying there a moment longer before surging up, capturing Cas’s mouth in a kiss. 

It had tasted like blood and exhaustion, but Cas would’ve traded anything in the world away for it.

*

There was a certain poetic irony to it, Dean thought. Hiding in the closet while Not-Dean and Cas talked in the room outside. 

Cas was out there with his… out-Dean and Dean was in a closet. Literally. 

He tried not to do much as breathe, since, if he knew himself, Not-Dean would notice, try to eject him. He was a chink in the system, something that would wake Cas up. That wouldn’t be received well. 

“I still can’t believe it.” Dean heard Cas saying. Cas was casually pulling his sweatpants down, and Dean averted his eyes to body snatch Dean, who was doing the same. Well, at least that one was his body. Weird still, but Dean would make do. 

“Can’t believe what?” Not-Dean asked as he puttered around the room, evidently getting ready for bed. Or… something. Dean had been puttering around up here for hours, but still, this was… domestic. 

“That we have this. The house, the dog, the kids. The baby.” Cas grinned, “I can’t believe I have you.”

Not-Dean stepped a little closer to Cas, a flirtatious expression Dean recognised on his face. God, he’d gotten old. He used to be able to do that and stop traffic. Now he was just an old, broken hunter. 

Still, Cas seemed affected by it, he smiled back, a hint of something else to it, and Not-Dean reached up to brush Cas’s hair back. It was a soft gesture. Not a passionate action of a one-night stand, but the domestic sweetness of a married couple. Dean just stared through the slats of the cupboard door with confusion. With curiosity. 

Cas leaned in to kiss Not-Dean, and Dean felt something weird in his chest. A dark, unsettling feeling. Jealousy? Over Cas? With… body snatched him? He told himself he was only jealous of the peace and normalcy, and not of Cas himself. Not of Cas loving some other Dean that wasn’t really him. 

Still, he watched as they kissed. Watched as something slow and sweet turned into something heated and burning. He watched Cas push Not-Dean back onto the bed and climb on top of him before he pushed further back into the closet, sitting with his eyes wide open and facing determinedly away from where they were.

He couldn’t see them anymore, but he could hear them, and he kept his hand clamped over his mouth, terrified he might give his presence away. Dear god, he felt like he was invading on Cas’s private thoughts here, like he was definitely not supposed to be witnessing any of this.

Maybe he would just… never mentioned being here for this. For Cas’s health and his own. 

When the sounds of… enjoyment settled down, Dean tried not to feel overwhelmed. This wasn’t about him, this was about saving Cas’s life. He had to save Cas’s life. Still he couldn’t do it tonight. He had to get the angel alone. Somehow.

*

At some point, Dean must’ve fallen asleep in the closet (ugh, the irony) because when he peeked out again, Cas and Not-Dean were laying in bed, wrapped up in each others’ arms, whispering to each other. Dean, again, felt like he was intruding, but he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away. 

They were forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and they appeared tangled up in each other. Not-Dean looked content and safe there, like he couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else.

They must’ve begun talking slightly louder, because Dean could hear more now. “Love, it’s fine.” Not-Dean was saying. “Jack and Claire have taken Jazz to get a Santa Photo. Can't imagine who’d want to do that on Christmas day, but they have an appointment. I’m just going to get the last few things for dinner, since I’m doing the cooking and I know what we’ll need. We’ll all be back well before anyone else arrives. The first person coming is Sammy, probably with Eileen, and that’s a good eight hours from now. Stop stressing,” Not-Dean kissed Cas’s nose, fondly, smiling. “Everything’s gonna be great. You’ve been waiting for this all year.”

“But I don’t want you to go,” Cas whined and Not-Dean chuckled, kissing him lingeringly, a hand on Cas’s cheek. 

“I’ll be back soon. Have a shower, relax. It’s our first proper Christmas as a family.” Not-Dean held his hand up, proudly showing the gold ring that sat there. “It’s going to be great.”

Not-Dean got up, got dressed, and left, but Dean still waited till he heard the familiar growl of the impala’s engine until he risked speaking to Cas. God, this was going to go so badly. 

Once Cas got up to go to the bathroom, Dean quietly let himself out, pacing nervously as he waited for Cas to return, waited to tentatively try to pull him out of this. Dean had realised on his own, but things seemed to be different for Cas. Maybe it was a different strain of djinn. Maybe it was different because Cas was an angel. 

When Cas reappeared, he gave Dean a genuine, glowing smile. Having it directed at him was like looking into the sun. He’d never seen that look directed at him before. Not ever. Cas looked… genuinely happy. It would break his heart to have to drag Cas away from this. 

“You’re back, honeybee,” Cas said softly, crossing the room before Dean could even blink and kissing him. The kiss was surprisingly soft and gentle. Dean couldn’t remember his last real kiss, let alone one with real feeling. And, surprised as he was, Dean could feel it. Cas’s real feelings, poured into all of this. The look on his face, the gentle press of his lips, the pressure of a hand on his neck. 

He felt a deep pang of longing, and put that into the box for things to deal with later. 

“I’m…” Dean repeated lamely, caught completely off guard by the kiss and the way it made him slightly dizzy. “I’m…”

“You okay, Dean?” Cas grinned, “Not still reeling from last night I hope.” The words were a tease, and Dean had to stop this before he also forgot why he was here in the first place.

“I’m not your Dean.” Dean said quickly, and Cas stepped back, surveilling him. Instantly, his demeanour changed. He was as Dean usually saw Cas. He stood straighter, his expression grew colder and less expressive. All that light and happiness drained out of his eyes.

“No… no, you’re not. Who… are you…?” He asked, “Where are you from?”

Cas, even as a human, could recognise Dean, who and what he was and wasn’t so easily that it made something inside him ache with guilt. 

“I’m… in my word, you, me, Sam and Jack are living in the bunker.” Dean said softly, “We’re still… y’know, saving people, hunting things…” He trailed off, smiling weakly. “And so are you, Cas. You’re… you got caught by a djinn. We tried everything to get to you but it didn’t work. Rowena sent me in in the hope I could… convince you.”

Cas’s expression fell, and Dean felt his resolve crumbling with it. “No.” Cas said quickly, stepping back again. “No, you’re some kind of monster. You’re trying to disrupt all this but… but this is real. I remember it. I remember our first kiss. Buying this house. Claire and Jack moving in… I remember rescruing Zeppelin and…” Cas frowned, and Dean came to the horrific realisation that Cas had tears in his eyes. Dean had never seen Cas cry before. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it. “I remember Jasper being born.”

Dean pressed his lips together, knowing if he spoke, his own voice would shake with emotion. “Jasper isn’t real. Neither is that Dean or that dog or that Claire or that Jack.”

“Don’t.” Cas was saying quickly, “Our son— our son is real. He’s yours. He has your eyes. Your freckles.”

Dean felt like he’d been hit by a truck, but he couldn’t just let this go. 

“Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but it’s true. We— We never left the bunker. We go on hunts together. It was you and me who went on this one. We— We split up to go looking for the lair and when I couldn’t get onto you, I went looking. You were strung up by that thing, dying… You gotta believe me, man…”

Cas looked pained, and he was staring at Dean like the world might end there and then.

Dean heard his own voice calling from downstairs. “Honey, I’m home.” It was way too quick for Not-Dean to be back, which Dean took as confirmation it was working. The world was trying to adapt, trying to pull Cas back in. Dean. Dean was the trick to it all.

Rowena was right. It had to be him who came in here. 

*

Cas could feel his life ripping apart at the seams. Every fibre of him was screaming that this Dean was a monster, that it was lying to him, that his husband and kids were real. He looked up at the picture on the wall, it was so real. He could remember everything about it.

How they’d had sunflowers and wedding pie in a backyard. How Dean had had to be talked into even wearing a suit. How his eyes had crinkled and shon in the sun when Cas read his vows. 

How Sam’s speech had made them all cry.

It was real. Their son was real. Dean’s son. Cas had insisted he be biologically Dean’s. The Winchester family had to live on, and Cas had prayed (not literally) that their son would end up with all the best parts of Dean. When his eyes had gone that fairytale green, he had been overwhelmed with joy. 

It was real. Every piece of him told him it was real. But then… why was some nagging voice in his head telling him that this Dean, the bearer of bad news, was the real one.

When his Dean, his husband, entered the room, there was a moment of panic.

“Cas, what the hell’s going on…?” His voice was deep and threatening, and he walked right past the other Dean to Cas, arms wrapping around him protectively. “Who are you? How’d you get my face?” He snapped, and honestly, Cas truly couldn’t tell which was which. 

“I’m sorry, Cas, I’m really sorry, but all of this ain’t real. That isn’t me. I know on some level you know that. I don’t wanna lose you, man.” Dean’s voice was growing emotional. The bad news Dean. 

“I don’t understand…” Cas whispered.

“Babe, it’s me.” His husband said slowly, resting his hand against Cas’s face. “I know this must be confusing for you. But remember our wedding? How Sammy tried to pie me in the face at one point? Remember how I proposed? God, that was lame. It’s all real, Cas. I’m real. We’re real. We are. Please don’t listen to him.”

Cas stared between them, and his heart broke. He had to pull away from his husband, stared between them. 

The other Dean, the bad news Dean, wore his normal boots, faded jeans and a jacket over a flannel, over a t-shirt. His Dean wore the same boots, but with sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His Dean looked softened. Happier. His Dean looked like a married man with a house and a dog and kids.

The other Dean… the other Dean looked like a war torn hunter who’d been to hell and back again. Cas desperately didn’t want to know, but he knew.

“Cas, please.” His husband was whispering, “The kids and— and, dinner. Jody, Donna, the girls, Charlie, Adam, Bobby… they’re all coming over soon. For Christmas. We’ve got all the presents laid out. Eileen’s pregnant, remember? Please, Cas. We love you. I love you.”

Cas turned to look at the other Dean. The sadder, wearier Dean. His eyes were pleading, but in an entirely different way.

“I… Cas, I hate doin’ this to you, man. I really didn’t wanna come in here. You’ve given up so much for me already. I—I thought your perfect world would be back in Heaven or— or with your family again. I had no idea it would be…” He gestured vaguely around, “But man, we need you. Jack needs you. You’re… you’re family, man. You’re Team Free Will. We need you.” He repeated, desperately. “I need you.”

Dean’s green eyes were wide and locked on him and Cas couldn’t look away. The self-loathing, self-sacrificial hunter with a death wish and a penchant for swearing at angels. On his knees, bloodied and bruised and half beaten to death, pleading with Cas, telling Cas that he needed him. Standing in front of him, arms outstretched, eyes desperate. 

Cas had rebuilt Dean from the ground up, put his soul back together with sticky tape and string. He knew everything about Dean, yet Dean was constantly surprising him. Even at his worst, his angriest, his most defeated, he was still… beautiful. 

This was the real Dean. Cas knew it right down to his core. To the very depths of his heart. 

He could stay here, he thought, tiredly. He could stay here and pretend this world was real and die by the side of a Dean who loved him. A Dean who woke him by calling him sweetheart and making him coffee. A Dean who teased their kids and sang happily along to classic rock while cooking dinner for their family every night. A Dean who kissed him goodnight before falling to sleep every evening, and who rarely ever woke screaming anymore.

He could stay with this Dean, with his children, with his home and dog and happy ending.

But even if the real Dean would never love him back… that was his Dean.

“How do we get out of here?” Cas asked the real Dean, gravely. 

*

Dean groaned, and someone patted his head. “There, there, little hunter, you’ll be up and ready to try to fight the sun again in no time.” The familiar Scottish voice told him. 

Dean blinked back his tiredness, trying to look around. He wasn’t one to rest, not ever, and he needed to know they’d both made it back okay.

“Cas?” He managed to ask and Rowena shushed him again.

“He’s fine. A little worse for wear, but fine.” She patted him on the head again, as if he was a baby, “Sleeping.”

“Angels don’t sleep.” Dean grumbled back.

“They do when they nearly die by having the life force sucked out of them, apparently.” Rowena’s voice was getting less fond and more annoyed, and Dean took that as a cue to shut up.

He wasn’t sure when Rowena had become an actual ally. A no holes barred, would help them for nothing ally, but she was. A friend even. Dean actually cared about her too. As he had grown to care about Crowley. It was weird, and Dean sort of resented it, but there team also had an angel and a nephilim, so he figured… eh, friends in high and low places. 

It was a little while later when Dean actually was awake properly again. 

“Sam…?” He called as he woke up, instinctively. 

The younger but taller hunter entered a moment later, looking concerned. “You okay?” He asked, looking a little groggy, and Dean wondered if he’d been napping too. Good. Kid needed it, Dean wished he hadn’t woken him. 

“Cas, is he…?” 

Sam shrugged, “He left hours ago. Pretty much as soon as he recovered.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean groaned.

“What the hell happened in there, man?”

It wasn’t Dean’s to tell, not really, but he needed to talk to someone about what’d happened and, really, Sam was all he had. 

“Not what I expected.” Dean grumbled and Sam nodded, waiting pointedly for Dean to elaborate. “We were married.”

“What, you and I? Ew.” Sam winced, disgusted. 

“What the fuck? No, dumbass. Him and I. You weren’t there.” Dean corrected, scowling at Sam. 

“Oh! Oh.” Sam’s disgusted grimace shifted into a small smile, and he patted his hands against his knees, thinking. “Kinda rude that I wasn’t there.”

“You and Eileen were… she was… You were coming over for Christmas dinner.” Dean explained, not wanting to throw Cas in it too much. Wasn’t like he controlled the fantasy. 

“So… you and Cas. Married. Thoughts?” Sam asked, clearly trying to draw something out of Dean. 

“What do you mean thoughts?” Dean practically growled. He knew exactly what Sam meant, but it was easier to play dumb when he had no good answer. “Thoughts about what?”

Sam rolled his eyes about him, “Thoughts about your best friend’s dream world having the two of you married, asshole. What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know.” Dean snapped, “What am I supposed to think about that?”

“Are you being purposefully obtuse?” Sam snapped right back at him, “You know what I’m asking you.”

“I don’t know, Sam. I have to… think about it.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, “You have to think about it? Dean… He’s been your best friend for twelve years. Surely you know whether--”

“I never considered it, man.” Dean looked up at his brother, and he tried to communicate with his eyes that he wasn’t ready to have a conversation about this. He wasn’t ready to consider how heartbroken the whole thing had him feeling. He wasn’t ready to consider what it had been like to kiss Cas, or how weirdly and irrationally jealous he’d felt of the version of himself Cas had created. He wasn’t ready to deal with any of it.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was softer now, more tentative, and he sat beside Dean on the bed. “You know… Dad’s not around anymore and--” He took a sharp breath, like choosing his words carefully, “No one who loves you would care if you did… want to be with him.”

Sam, smart as he was, had hit the point right at the core. John had never been much of a father to them, they both knew that, it had been Dean’s job to protect, Dean’s job to raise, Dean’s job to sacrifice. Still, John’s presence, while often fleeting, was heavy. It weighed over them both like a dark cloud, struck fear into them both. They had grown up calling their father ‘sir’ and being too afraid to talk back to him. At least, Dean had been too afraid. Right up till it had been Sammy on the line, then Dean had learned how to talk back.

Still, things John had said to him were etched into his mind. Sam knew, Dean was sure, because they had stayed in small motel rooms and the walls just weren’t that thick. John hadn’t taken it well at all when Dean had been caught with another boy. Still, the words had stayed longer than the bruises had, and Dean had never really recovered from those searing words John had thrown at him. That was the last time Dean had ever kissed a boy, until Cas, he guessed. 

Maybe Sam had been biting his tongue on this conversation for a long time. Dean certainly had. He had told himself they never had to discuss it. He was happy enough with women, he never had to deal with the bisexual elephant in the room. Of course, he hadn’t ever considered that Cas might want him back, so it was easy enough for him to just shove it away. To deny it until that denial felt like honesty. As he had been for the past twelve years.

Dean bit back a breath, and his voice came out shakier than he thought it was going to. “Jesus, Sammy, how long have you been holding onto this speech?”

“Since I was like, twelve,” Sam admitted with a small smile, “Never knew how to bring it up. But uh… If you want to be with Cas, I think you should be. No one’ll ever know you better… or understand what it’s like for you more. Plus, he’s… he’s family already.” Sam seemed like he was treading very gently, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. It was watery and weak, but a laugh nonetheless. “You deserve to be happy, Dean.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, and he thought about that little kid he’d been watching over since he was four years old. The six month old baby he carried out of a burning house. The six year old he gave his cereal to. The ten year old he’d read stories to. The fourteen year old he protected in school. The eighteen year old who left them behind for college. Sam was his brother, absolutely, but Dean had raised him as though he were a father. He couldn’t explain the significance of having Sam say these things to him, unprompted. 

He was too old to be seeking approval, but he supposed that damage never really went away. That was what John had left them with. A fuckton of damage. 

“You’re a good kid, y’know that Sammy?”

“I’m nearly forty, Dean.” He answered with a laugh as Dean pulled him into an affectionate headlock that sort of almost doubled as a hug. 

“Yeah, you’ll always be a kid to me, though. Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

*

There was no going back on what had happened. Dean knew now, and there was no explaining it away. There was no ulterior understanding of what had happened there-- Cas’s djinn poisoned life had involved being married to Dean.

Cas had decided a long time ago that he would never put that burden on Dean, that he knew Dean didn’t feel the same way, knew he never would. In a way, it was weird Cas had even believed in that fantasy. He was under no delusions about who he was in Dean’s life. He was an ally. A friend. Sometimes not even that, but certainly, nothing more. 

But as soon as he’d seen Dean -- the real Dean -- he’d known. He’d tried to deny it to himself, but he’d known. That never happened. Dean never said it back, Dean didn’t feel the same. Of course it was fake, because it was too perfect. Too happy. Too… unrealistic. 

In aeons of being alive, Cas had never had anyone look at him the way Dean did in that fantasy world. 

‘Cas, you got your ears on?’ Cas always had his ears on for Dean. Dean, who wouldn’t pray to God, but who prayed to him. Who trusted him enough to pray to him. To call for him. Cas waited for more, waited for an explanation. He figured he’d have to face it eventually, the awkwardness of what had happened. He figured Dean might just… sort of stop talking to him after this. Been uncomfortable or overwhelmed. After all, Cas had hurt him so many times. To turn around and have to see that?

‘We, uh, we needa talk, man. I don’t know where you got off to. If you’re busy or somethin’, that’s fine, but uh… if you’re avoiding me… I think we should talk.’ 

Cas sighed deeply. He didn’t have to go. He didn’t have to always be their lapdog who came running. He didn’t have to prove every person or entity who made fun of him about his loyalty to the Winchesters right. He could just pretend he was busy. Hell, he could just never answer again, no explanations. Surely he had done his part. He had fallen, rebelled, fought his own family, for them. Surely he didn’t owe them more.

Yet, Cas knew he wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t about owing and it never was. He didn’t keep going back to them because he owed them something, he kept going back to them because he cared about them. Because they were his family, the only real family he’d ever had. The only people who’d ever treated him like there wasn’t something inherently wrong with him. Like his disobedience was something good about him, rather than something shameful.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was there in a blink, sort of wishing he wasn’t, but knowing it was an inevitability. That they’d have to talk eventually. 

“Cas,” Dean had a sort of breathless smile on, like he was nervous, and Cas instantly felt guilty. Had he really made Dean so uncomfortable?

“You said you wanted to talk?” Really, it should probably be Cas to talk, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He focused on staying stoic, on not giving anything away, looking at Dean. 

“Um, yeah. About… y’know, what happened in there.” Dean’s lips were pursed, and he sort of looked like he was pouting as a result. Cas had to stop himself smiling at that. 

“Yes. Thank you for getting me out.” Cas said with a nod. He knew he was sort of playing dumb, pretending that that was what Dean was getting at when he was sure they both knew full well that wasn’t what they had to discuss here.

“Oh. Ain’t no thing.” Dean said casually, but he had that same half pouty look on, like he was trying to find the right words. “But I meant--”

“I know.” Cas interrupted. “We don’t have to discuss it.” He paused, “Unless you’re uncomfortable, in which case, I apologise.”

Dean blanched, looking confused. “No, it’s not that--”

Cas just blinked at him, trying to figure out what was happening in his head. Dean wasn’t exactly the best communicator, but then, Cas wasn’t either. He’d gotten better though, and Jack had played no small part in that. 

“It’s just--” He started again, “I thought you were going to be back in Heaven. With the angels or something. With Meg, maybe.” 

Cas was suddenly confused, and he blinked a few times too many, staring at Dean, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying. He was expecting a world in which Cas replaced him, in which Cas went back on the decisions, the sacrifices he’d made. Was that what Cas was meant to be taking from this?

“I thought maybe… it was a world in which… you hadn’t lost everything.” Dean explained, “Because of us, I mean. That’s what I thought I was walking into… I had no idea…”

Cas nodded slowly, trying to figure out what Dean was trying to get across. He’d been totally unprepared for the revelation that Cas was in love with him. Did he even realise that? The implications of it? He must. Cas felt laid bare, but he tried to keep his defences up. He stood a little straighter, kept his expression a little more passive and restrained.

“I apologise.” Cas repeated, measured. He had no idea what else he was supposed to say. The djinn had basically said it all for him, he supposed.

“That’s not-- I’m not looking for an apology, Cas.” Dean groaned, seeming frustrated.

“What are you looking for?” Cas asked, nose scrunching up, head tipping. He couldn’t figure out what Dean was trying to say, all he’d expressed so far was shock, which Cas took as a polite form of discomfort.

“Did you ever meet my Dad?” Dean asked with a frown, and he looked pained, like he couldn’t piece together what he was getting at.

“Not in person, no.” Cas said slowly, “I’m familiar with him though. Through others and through you.” He had seen him going back in time for instance.

“Okay, well…” Dean began slowly, “He was… he was a soldier, right? And he raised us to be too. Soldiers who put the job before… our lives or our feelings.” He elaborated, and Cas just watched, still having no idea what Dean was getting at here.

“Yes, I know. It was my job to know. You were supposed to Michael and Lucifer’s vessels.” He recalled with a nod. 

He watched Dean, whose brows were furrowed in confusion and frustration and he wondered, really, how anyone had expected him to collect this man from hell, to put him back together at the seams, to see the best and worst of him, and not to fall in love with him? 

“He, uh, he was… traditional in a lot of his ideas,” Dean explained, “He, uh, never looked at me the same after he… caught me with a boy one time,” Cas’s brows shot up. Okay, not what he was expecting to hear. Dean had a way of surprising him, even when Cas thought he knew everything about the hunter. 

“Oh.” Cas answered, still not sure where Dean was going with this exactly. Explaining why he couldn’t. Softening it for Cas, maybe? He narrowed his eyes a little, trying to make sense of it all. 

“Y’see what I’m getting at?” Dean said, and Cas immediately shook his head. Because no, not at all, Cas had no idea what Dean was getting at.

“No.” Cas answered instantly.

“I…” Dean rubbed a hand over his face, like he couldn’t find the words. Like he was frustrated about not being able to find the words. “I’m saying… I never really got the chance to explore that side of myself.” He said, and looked at Cas pointedly.

Cas still didn’t understand what Dean was talking about, or what any of this had to do with Cas and his stupidly revealing djinn poisoning. 

Dean could clearly see Cas wasn’t getting it, because he sighed. “So, when you kissed me…” 

Oh, right. Cas had kissed this Dean, when he thought it was the other Dean. He’d sort of blocked that from his mind, not entirely by accident. He kept his eyes on Dean, whose own seemed to fall under the weight of Cas’ gaze. 

“I didn’t know… what to expect.” He finished.

Was Cas meant to be making heads or tails of this? Because he wasn’t. He just blinked at Dean, waiting for him to tie this back to what happened in some way, tie it back to them needing to talk. 

Then, after a second and a deep sigh that would suggest Dean was annoyed at Cas that he wasn’t getting it, Dean grabbed Cas by the tie, yanking him closer and pushing their lips together again.

It felt different, Cas noted. More real maybe. Dean’s lips were soft, but the movement felt… awkward, maybe. Like Dean wasn’t entirely comfortable and Cas pulled himself back, slowly untangling Dean’s hand from his tie.

“You don’t… owe me this.” Cas said quickly, “And you don’t seem entirely confident in your decision to…”

Dean scoffed, looking a little embarrassed suddenly. “Haven’t had any complaints before,” he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t… I know I don’t owe you. I just… I wanted to do it again. After… that time in the dream. Y’know, where you actually know it’s me.” He explained, awkwardly. 

Cas half smiled a little, because it was sort of cute to see Dean so flustered and struggling for words. He wasn’t used to seeing Dean like that, and it was a softer side to a usually gruff and in-control man. 

Dean shuffled on his feet, trying to find something else to say, before Cas took a step closer, resting his hands on Dean’s hips, leaning in to kiss him again. Cas had no idea how he’d ended up as the more confident one in this situation, but in a way, it was nice. Dean was so rarely ever vulnerable by choice, but he was being now. He was allowing Cas to lead in this moment. Allowing that unsureness to shine through, to be honest. 

This kiss was a little slower and softer, and Cas tried to put everything into it. He tried to put that love and adoration into it, in case he never got another chance. He tried to pretend that maybe this was the beginning of something. Of them. Rather than a brief moment of Dean’s confusion or something. He tried to pretend that maybe Dean loved him back. That maybe this was something.

He felt Dean’s hands rest on his cheeks, and he took that as a good sign, pulling Dean closer. He might never get another chance, but he wanted Dean to understand, even without words, how loved he was. How adored. How special Cas thought he was, even despite seeing the worst, the darkest, the most broken parts of him.

And Cas did. He loved him. 

When Dean pulled back, Cas couldn’t bring himself to feel excited or pleased or really anything other than… sort of sad. This couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t last. He saw the way Dean looked at him. He was a friend, most of the time. But sometimes, he was a burden. Sometimes, Dean would go off with some girl from some bar and Cas would be left with Sam, to hang out or go home. Cas never held Dean’s attention long, and he knew that was how it would be.

Maybe Dean could sense that, see it on Cas’s face even, because he took a step back. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, and Cas could see the thinly veiled insecurity under the gruffness of his tone. He was defensive, and Cas could understand why. Especially if he was putting himself out there. Trying to be vulnerable.

“No. No.” Cas told him quickly, shaking his head, “Not at all. I just don’t want to delude myself into believing this is more than it actually is.”

Dean blinked, and for a moment, the defensive, annoyed look switched to something else. Confusion. Guilt. Something else Cas couldn’t decipher or name.

“What do you mean, more than it is?” He blinked back at Cas, and Cas wondered how they were ever going to solve this when neither seemed to be following what the other was saying. “What is it?”

Cas sighed, figuring it was all out there already for him anyway. It couldn’t get any worse by telling the truth. By just saying it out loud. “You saw what… what I want. You saw it in that djinn world in my head. I understand that you can’t give that, but… I don’t want to get my hopes up because you’re… feeling bad or curious or confused…” 

Dean’s brows furrowed, and Cas just watched him, waiting for a reaction. He figured it might be a bad reaction, and he braced for any potential anger from Dean. For Dean to be uncomfortable or out of his depth, as he so often was when it came to deeper feelings.

“Who said I can’t give you that?” Dean just answered in one breath, with a puff of his chest.

“What?”

“Why did you decide I can’t give you that?” Dean repeated, a grumpy, stubborn expression on his face. 

“Well… it’s been twelve years and…” Dean scoffed again at Cas’s words, “I thought I made it fairly clear where I stood.”

“First of all. No the fuck you didn’t. Second of all, twelve years. You didn’t say anything either. Your djinn poisoned brain did.” He argued, sounded a little more annoyed now, though Cas felt like it was a less real anger now, more like a way to figure out what to think. More like a way to work through it all.

“Well… now you know where I stand.” Cas said slowly, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “You saw the picture. The rings. The… oh god, what did you see?” Cas suddenly realised, his eyes widening.

Dean chuckled, “Too much, bud. Too much.” He patted Cas on the shoulder. “Enough to know I was jealous of weird fake me.” He cleared his throat as he said it, like the words were making him uncomfortable, but he was saying them anyway. 

Cas’s brows raised, shocked. Was he hearing Dean right? Was he understanding right? He was thankful he was an angel and not a human, because he had learned that this body could, in fact, blush while he was in that place, and he was sure he would be now. 

“Well… You can be… fake you.” Cas said awkwardly and they stared at each other in loaded silence for a moment before they both began laughing.

“I’d like that.” Dean said, smiling in a small, genuine way he hadn’t seen in a long time. He’d give up his grace to see Dean smile like that every day. Over and over again. 

“Finally!” Dean jumped visibly when he heard Sam’s voice from outside and Cas chuckled. 

“You know, there was somethin’ else about that world I kinda wanted.” Dean admitted, taking another step closer to Cas, as if finding a way to be comfortable in close proximity with Cas after having discussed. Cas waited for him to elaborate, brows raised. “The… family Christmas. You think we could do that? Invite Jody and the girls? A Christmas Tree? Charlie, Bobby, all of ‘em?”

Cas couldn’t stop it, a grin pulled across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we could arrange that. I’m sure Sam will help. Sam?”

“I’m on board,” Sam called back and Dean frowned, shaking his head. 

“Fuckin’ eavesdropper.”


End file.
